


Perspectives

by PrincessMuk



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Chloé Bourgeois Redemption, Crime Fighting, Even superheroes mess up sometimes, Frenemies, Kinda like roomates but not really, Marinette is a blabbermouth, My First AO3 Post, Mystery, POV Chloe, Riches to Rags, Suddenly homeless
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2018-12-07 23:32:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11634228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessMuk/pseuds/PrincessMuk
Summary: When Mayor Bourgeois' scandal is discovered by the Parisian government, Chloé finds herself stuck between a rock and a hard place. With nobody else to turn to, she must accept help from her arch-nemesis, Marinette. But when Chloé discovers the secret of the century, will she keep it to herself, or tell the world?





	1. The Worst Day Ever

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on AO3, so I'm a little nervous putting it up . . . but here it is! I hope you guys enjoy!

Chloé Bourgeois, daughter of the Mayor, most popular (and beautiful) girl in Paris, was showing off her pearly whites in a bright smile as she strutted down Avenue des Champs Elysées, multiple shopping bags hanging off her arms. The sun shone beautifully in the sky, sparkling across the green grass and clear blue skies. The few clouds that were present were purely white, covering the sun once in awhile and treating the city to a nice minute or two of shade. Once in awhile, pink, blossoming leaves would fall from the spring trees, wisping around Chloé in the soft breeze. Next to her was her best friend, Sabrina, who was carrying more than a few of Chloé’s bags for her. Chloé prefered not to have the guards her father insisted on following her in sight, it was so not cool, so her best friend was stuck carrying anything Chloé didn’t want to.

  
“Miss Bourgeois,” a voice called out from behind her.

  
Chloé turned around raising a brow as she gave Sabrina a _can-you-believe-these-people?_ look. “What is it?”

  
“You need to come with us to your father’s office.” It was one of her bodyguards, accompanied by a government official she’d seen once or twice at her father’s various meetings.

  
“Why?” Chloé asked, tapping her foot impatiently.

  
The two men looked at one another with the same uneasy look, before the government official looked at her directly in the eye and said, “you’ll see.”

  
Sabrina looked to Chloé, confusion and worry in her eye. Chloé looked back at her, “Sabrina, this may take a while, why don’t you go home and I’ll text you later?”  
Sabrina just nodded, then headed back towards her home, taking both she and Chloé’s bags with her.

  
As for Chloé, the young Parisian just looked at her new escorts with one of her signature frowns, still tapping her foot, and said, “let’s get whatever this is over with already.”

  
The government official just sighed, then the two men began leading the way back to Chloé’s mansion. The near-perfect day seemed to be ruined due to this stupid interruption, and it had definitely tainted how cool she seemed to Sabrina. What kind of friend had to get _escorted home_ for no reason in the middle of shopping?

  
Chloé was ripped away from her thoughts as they neared her home, press and huge trucks blocking the streets. Her father stood in front of the gates, shouting at various people, though looking almost broken instead of his usual in-charge demeanor. People ran past Chloé from all directions, some going towards the house to get a better look, and some heading towards the trucks, furniture and decorations in tow. Chloé gasped, putting her hands to her mouth as she ran towards her father.

  
“Daddy!” she hugged his side immediately. “What’s going on? Why are they taking our stuff?!”

  
Mayor Bourgeois sighed, looking at his daughter with a look that she’d only seen once before, when her mother had left them. The twinkle in his eye was gone, the stress lines on his face seeming deeper than ever before. “It’s all my fault, sweetie. I . . . “ his voice hitched, “I’m so sorry.”

  
“Daddy?” Chloé questioned, looking straight into his eyes, a tactic she’d used countless times to get a quick answer.

  
“Mayor Bourgeois, is it true that you’ve been using government money to pay for your own personal expenses?” a young reporter called out.

  
“Mr.Bourgeois, how many years has it been since you _really_ paid your taxes?” another reporter, older this time, asked.

  
“How do you respond to the accusations of misuse of power?”

  
“Are you going to address the public about your impeachment?”

  
“Who is going to be in charge of the Grand Paris Hotel?”

  
The questions spun around in Chloé’s mind, each providing new information for her to process. Her father was being impeached. He was being fired. How could _her_ daddy be fired?! And from the things Chloé was hearing, that wasn’t the only nightmarish thing that was happening.

  
“Chloé,” there was suddenly a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump. Chloé looked over to its source, a feeble and helpless look of distress on her face as she turned. It was one of her father’s assistants, also one of her old nannies. “We need to leave the premises immediately. Keep calm, and don’t talk to the press.”

  
Chloé was in mid-nod when she saw the men carrying out her vanity, many boxes of jewelry stacked upon it. In the midst of all the clutter was a crystal broach in the shape of a flower, the gems sparkling in the sunlight.

  
“ _NO_!” she yelled out, running towards the movers. She grabbed the broach, “you can’t take these things! These are _mine_!”

  
“Miss Bourgeois, we have been ordered to take anything of value,” one of the men said, setting down the vanity. “These will be sold to account for the expenses your father is unable to pay the government.”

  
“But you _can’t_!” the girl protested, holding the broach close to her chest. “These are _mine_! This was mine way before daddy became mayor!”

  
“Miss Bourg--”

  
“Let her keep it,” the assistant stated, an icy stare directed towards the men. “It was her mother’s.”

  
The man gave Chloé a look of . . . pity, was it? He then sighed, picking the vanity up once again. “Very well.”

  
“Come on Chloé, we need to leave,” her father said, tugging her jacket gently.

  
With one last look towards all of her things, her clothes, her Ladybug cosplay, her house, everything she’d ever known, Chloé nodded, allowing her father and assistant to take her into a small car, away from the crowds of people.

  
The day was _definitely_ ruined.

 

* * *

  
Chloé knew only a few things about her current situation, and none of them were good. Firstly, she was no longer the wealthy daughter of the best mayor Paris had ever seen, but a simple, lower-class nobody whose family name was now shamed in public forever. Secondly, all of her prized possessions, besides her mother’s old broach, were gone. All she had was the clothes on her back, and whatever had been in her purse at the time of that awful experience. Thirdly, and by far the most frightening of them all, she was homeless.

  
She had nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. Sabrina’s father hadn’t welcomed them to their home, since he had been so appalled at his mayor, _his mayor_ for breaking the law in so many ways. She’d been too embarrassed to contact Adrien, and she’d prayed to God that his sheltered lifestyle had stopped him from discovering her situation already. Besides that, she had no other friends, and her father’s various family friends and associates didn’t want to be seen with him.

  
“Stop here,” her father said, bringing Chloé back into reality. It was nearly 12 o’clock now, and they had been searching the city for hours, going to every single place she and her father thought held friends.

  
As Chloé looked up from her mother's broach, she raised a brow, taking in her surroundings. The car was stopped across the street from Collège Françoise Dupont, the muffled sound of the engine purring softly in the background. Were they at a homeless shelter or something? Chloé had heard of places like that being in schools, churches, and other public areas. Surely they hadn’t needed to resort to that already?

  
It was only when her father began to get up and out of the car, heading not towards the school, but towards the building nearest to the vehicle, the one on the side of the car opposite to Chloé. Climbing out of the car herself, Chloé gasped, realizing exactly where they were. This was no homeless shelter. It was far, _far_ worse.

  
They were at the Tom  & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie, otherwise known as _Marinette’s house_.

  
“Daddy! You can’t seriously be thinking of staying _here_!” Chloé protested, running up to match her father’ pace.

  
“Believe me, I wish there was another option, but this is our last chance . . . “ her father sighed. “The Dupain-Cheng’s are the only people that still might take us in.”

  
“That . . . that can’t be true, daddy!” Chloé argued, the small sliver of hope she had crumbling into a billion tiny pieces.

  
“I’m sorry, sweetie, but,” her father sighed, rapping on the glass door, “it is.”

  
A window on the second floor showed the shadows of a large man getting up from wherever he had been sitting, followed by a smaller, plumper female. They made their way away from the window, their silhouettes getting smaller, as they seemed to be going down some stairs. A few moments later, a light flipped on in the bakery, illuminating everything near it, as Tom and Sabine Dupain-Cheng walked briskly towards the door, their expressions growing with alarm.

  
Mr. Dupain opened the door, “Mr.Bourgeois! Chloé! It’s such a  . . . a surprise to see you here!” he glanced nervously to his wife, who was holding on to his large arm, her face showing obvious concern for the two. “I, um, heard about the--”

  
“Yes, yes, I know. Everyone’s heard . . . “ the former mayor sighed. “We were, um . . . “ he cleared his throat, “we were wondering if maybe we could stay here? J-just for the night, of course! We just, um . . . well, as you know, they took _everything_ , and--”

  
“Yes! Yes, of course!” Sabine waved them in, opening the door as wide as it could go. “You two must be freezing, oh, come inside. We’ll have some hot coffee ready for you in just a minute, and some hot chocolate for Chloé.”

  
Chloé’s father blinked in surprise, then smiled warmly. “Thank you. We are eternally grateful.”

  
They were led inside, the two newcomers sitting down at one of the bakery’s tables, hot drinks being passed their way almost immediately.

  
“You can stay as long as you’d like,” Sabine told them, smiling like only a mother could.

  
“Oh, we wouldn’t want to be any trouble . . . “Mr.Bourgeois waved the idea away like a stray dandelion seed.

  
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all!” Tom said, “we’re here to help you as long as you need it.”

  
“Well, I--” her father continued, before being cut off by a quiet yawn coming from the steps.

  
“Mamma, Papa, what’s going on?” It was Marinette, sleepily rubbing her eyes as she took in the scene in front of her, a pouty look of disgust suddenly on her face. “What’s _Chloé_ doing here?” Her hair was up in a messy bun. She was wearing a white tank top with pink lace lining the edges and matching pink yoga pants. Chloé had to give it to her, she looked cute. (Not as cute as _she_ usually did, of course.

  
_Typical Marinette_ , Chloé thought. _She’s never happy to see me. She’s probably already gossiped with her best friend Alya about how I’m homeless and can never go out in public again._

  
“ _Marinette_ ,” Sabine said, her tone causing the girl to plaster on a fake bright smile, her posture suddenly straighter. “Mr. Bourgeois and Chloé are going to stay with us for a little while. And you are going to share your room with her.”

  
“ _WHAT?!_ ” the two girls shouted at the same time, Marinette falling halfway down the stairs.

  
Chloé’s father nodded, “yes, yes, thank you so much. I’m sure Chloé will be _very grateful_ of the comfort you’ve provided, _right_ sweetie?”

  
Chloé gulped, crossing her arms. “Yeah, sure,” she rolled her eyes, looking out a nearby window at nothing.

  
“Marinette, why don’t you show Chloé to your room and help her get settled? Get her some sheets from the closet and set them out on your couch.” Marinette’s mother suggested, though anyone in the situation could tell there wasn’t a choice in the matter.

  
“Yes Mama,” Marinette nodded, biting her lip as if to stop herself from saying something. She looked to Chloé, the two girls sharing a look of hatred, before waving her up to the stairs.

  
With a sigh, Chloé walked over to the stairs, allowing Marinette to lead her up them and to her home. She wished there were elevators in the stupid bakery.

  
“Like I was saying,” she heard her father say uneasily, “trouble.”

* * *

  
    “So,” Marinette started, opening the trapdoor at the top of yet another set of stairs Chloé had been forced to climb, “here’s my room,” Marinette said, a little louder than usual, before returning to a normal tone to add, “Ignore the posters.”

  
    “Ignore the . . . “ Chloé stopped herself once she climbed up to see the room, looking around at it all. The first thing she noticed was that it was pink. Very pink. The pink was accented by beautiful whites, blacks, and the natural browns of the wood supporting the roof and walls. Hints of forest colors such as green and red were sprinkled throughout the room, everything being tied together neatly by the violet trim on her walls. Her bed was elevated, a ladder leading up to it, and below it was plenty of desk space where Chloé guessed she did most of her fashion design work. She even had a nice little chaise lounge, the one Chloé assumed she’d be sleeping on. But the most noticeable thing was the many, many posters of _Adrien_ plastered across the walls.

  
    “Oh, _those_ posters.”

  
    “Yeah, those. I just . . . I like Gabriel’s work, okay?” Marinette defended herself, blushing a bit.

  
    “And by _work_ ,” Chloé snickered, “do you mean his _clothes_ or his _son_?”

  
    “Ugh!” Marinette rubbed her temples, flopping down on the chaise lounge. “I can’t _believe_ this! I’m going to have to deal with you acting like you do for . . . for who _knows_ how long, and all you’re gonna do is torment me!”

  
    “Excuse me?” Chloé tapped her foot, her arms crossing once again. “You think I _want_ to be here? I’d honestly rather be in one of those homeless shelter thingies.”

  
    “Homeless . . . shelter . . . “ Marinette slowly turned to look at Chloé, a look of confusion on her face. It was almost as if she had just followed her mother's orders to let Chloé into her room, but she hadn't been actually processing what had been going on. “Wait, Chloé, what happened?”

  
    “Wha-- what do you _mean_ what happened? I’m not going to repeat it just so you can embarrass me or whatever, okay?” Chloé said, her cheeks burning red. She wasn _not_ about to be fooled by Marinette, of all people.

  
    “No, seriously, tell me. I have no idea why you’re here!” Marinette pleaded.

  
    “You . . . you really don’t know?” Chloé raised a brow, the redness fadin. Her look softened slightly, though she was still obviously skeptical.

  
    “No, I don’t.”

  
    “Fine,” Chloé sighed, “it’s not like everyone in Paris doesn’t know already.”

  
    Marinette leaned forward in anticipation, her hands gripping the soft fabric on her knees as the hair framing her face fell forward.

  
    Chloé sat herself down on the chaise lounge, plumping the pillow behind her until it was just right. Once comfortable, she looked at Marinette, sighed once again, and said, “my daddy got fired!”

  
    “What? Oh, that’s . . . that’s _horrible_ , Chloé!” Marinette exclaimed, the sympathy a little strange to them both.

  
    “I was just out shopping with Sabrina when all of a sudden these guys are taking me back to my mansion, a-and then I see people yelling at daddy, and I find out that he wasn’t paying his taxes, and he ‘ _abused his power_ ’ or something, and then they took all of our stuff away, and then we drove around for hours trying to find someplace to go, but nobody likes us anymore because _we don’t have money_!” Chloé let it all out, tears beginning to flow. She didn't even care who she was talking to anymore, she just needed to get it out.

  
    “Oh, Chloé . . . “ Marinette hesitantly put a hand on her back. “It . . . it’ll be okay. I-I’m sorry that all this happened to you . . . “

  
    Chloé buried her face in her hands, black tears staining them. “And now I have to stay with _you_ , and I just _know_ you’re gonna be all jerky about it at school--”

  
    “What? No! I would _never_ do that!” Marinette gasped, seeming almost _offended_ by it.

  
    Chloé looked up, her face a mess of runny mascara and clumps of stray hairs from her ponytail, “but you _hate_ me!”

  
    “Well . . . I don’t _hate_ you, per say . . . “ Marinette tapped her chin. “But even if I did, I wouldn’t do that! Not everybody stoops to that level, Chloé.”

  
    Wiping her face the best she could with the back of her hand, Chloé frowned, “it’s not like it matters anyways. Everybody at school is going to make fun of me and hate me, even if _you_ don’t start it, like you always do.”

  
    “Like I . . . what?” Marinette raised a brow, looking suddenly very guilty.

  
    “Every time I’m doing something, you go and make the whole class turn against me! And every time I’m _finally_ getting close to Adrien, you swoop in and take him away!” Chloé’s frown grew deeper, her arms crossed once again.

  
    “The class only turns against you when you’re being _mean_ , Chloé. It’s not my fault it happens a lot . . . “ Marinette stated without hesitation, almost as if she _didn’t_ just insult the girl who just lost everything. “And it’s not my fault if Adrien doesn’t like yo--”

  
    “ _No_! No, no, no, nuh uh, nope. Adrien does like me. I’m his first and best friend. He and I have been like _this_ ,” Chloé twisted her first and middle fingers together, “since we were, like, two feet tall. You keep on stealing him from me!”

  
    “Chloé, let’s be honest, when have _I_ ever stolen _Adrien_ from _anybody_?” Marinette giggled dryly, a small smirk forming on her face, if only for the moment.

  
    “Yeah, yeah, whatever . . . “ Chloé dismissed the thought. “Can you just get my sheets already so I can go to bed? It’s been a long night.”

  
    Marinette gave a soft smile, for a reason Chloé did not understand. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be right back.”

  
    With that, Marinette stood up, walking over to the trapdoor swiftly, then opened it, and climbed down after flashing Chloé one last . . . smile? Was she okay? Did she hit her head or something? Whatever, it didn’t matter. Now Chloé was finally alone, and she could collect her thoughts. How had her day gone so far?

 

    Go shopping with Sabrina? Check.  
  
    Go home to find out daddy did a bunch of illegal things? Check.  
  
    Get kicked out of house and lose all possessions? Check.  
  
    Drive around the city for hours in a cramped car? Check.  
  
    Be forced to room with worst enemy? Check!  
  
    It seemed like the day had gone great!

  
    Marinette came back up the stairs quickly, a load of blankets and sheets on one arm. Chloé got off the chaise lounge so Marinette could set up her bedding situation, a quiet voice in the very back of her mind wondering if she should ask to help. But no, Marinette had it covered, as the chaise lounge was set up in under a minute. Satisfied with her work, Marinette turned back to Chloé, giving her a small nod before heading towards her ladder to go to sleep.

  
    Chloé laid herself down on the chaise lounge, setting her purse next to her. She took out her ponytail, then began braiding her hair to keep it from getting tangled. She frowned as she realized she didn’t have a hairbrush with her. Oh well, she’d just have to settle for borrowing Marinette’s in the morning. Chloé stared at the ceiling, all of the thoughts and fears of the day finally coming together into one giant ball of anxiety, the expression on her face showing complete sadness.

  
    After a little while, Chloé had realized there was no way she was falling asleep. But with nothing else to do, she could only lie still, staring at her broach in the dark as she listened to the pitter-patter of the fresh rain that had just began to fall and Marinette’s soft breaths. That is, until those soft breaths turned sharp. Chloé tensed, wondering what had caused the interruption to such beautiful serenity. She heard a faint, “what? Who-- oh.” which only fed her curiosity.

  
    “Is she asleep?” a high pitched yet soothing voice broke quietly through the silence.

  
    “Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” Chloé heard Marinette answer in a hushed tone.

  
    Who was she talking to? Was she on the phone? But Chloé knew that was impossible. There was no light in the room besides what came from the streetlamps outside, but they were dim as ever. Besides, if she were on the phone, she wouldn’t have been able to hear the person on the other end. So _who_ was she talking to?

  
    “How are you going to do this?” the voice asked, a sense of urgency filling the room. “You’ll barely be able to keep your secret if she’s around 24/7!”

  
    Secret? What secret? And who was she talking to?

  
    “I know, I know . . . I’ll just have to figure it out. It’s not like I can just _tell_ her.”

  
    “Yeah,” the voice giggled, then abruptly stopped. “Still, this is a very serious matter. If she found out, both of you could be in danger.”

  
     _Danger_? What was Marinette hiding?

  
    “I know, Tikki, trust me. You know I don’t trust anyone with my secrets.”

  
    Tikki? Is that who she was talking to? But who was Tikki? Surely not anyone from school . . .

  
    “Except that diary of yours,” Tikki giggled.

  
    Chloé could practically _feel_ the eye roll that followed. “It has _security_ , Tikki. It’s _fine_.”

  
    “Yeah, but aren’t you worried about her snooping around in your room?”

  
    “Well it’s not like there’s anything for her to find. You hold everything I need.” Marinette giggled.

  
    “Okay, okay, shhh,” Tikki hushed, unintentionally reminding Chloé that they still thought she was asleep. “You need to get some rest.”

  
    “Okay. Night, Tikki.”

  
    “Goodnight, Marinette.”

  
    What. The. Heck?!


	2. A New Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe begins her first day of school as a -- gasp! -- poor person. But how will her classmates react? And what the heck is going on with Marinette?  
> In other words, the really overdue chapter that's just now being posted because moving.

Chloé awoke with a start, a loud clang causing her to fall off the chaise lounge and land on the hard wood floor below.

"Hey!" she cried out, getting up quickly from the ground as she rubbed her backside. "What the heck?!"

Her vision adjusted to the world outside of dreams, the bright colors of the room overwhelming her for a moment. The rising sun shone through the window, small particles of dust floating visibly in the light. She looked around, seeing Marinette hurriedly pulling a shirt down and onto her small body.

"We're late!" Marinette exclaimed, grabbing her hand-made blazer. "I can't believe this why did I stay up so late oh my gosh why didn't my alarm wake me up stupid alarm stupid Tikki stupid school . . . " she rambled on, barely aware of Chloé's presence.

With an annoyed sigh, Chloé strutted over to the vanity, taking out the elastics in her hair. She un-braided it quickly, grabbing Marinette's brush to style it.

"Chloé!" Marinette was behind her now, her stressed expression visible in the mirror. "Get ready! We're going to be late for school!"

Chloé took a deep huff of breath, setting the brush down calmly before giving the other girl a disgusted look. "Marinette, you live across the street from the school. How the heck are you always late?"

  
Chloé realized she hadn't even changed into pajamas last night; she'd just slept in her clothes. Come to think of it, she didn't have any other clothes to wear . . . What would people think? Was she going to smell?

"I don't know, I just . . . never wake up in time!" Marinette threw her hands up. They soon went back down, however, as she grabbed her bag and purse. "Just get ready so we can go!"

Chloé bit her lip, contemplating whether she should mention the clothing problem, before she grabbed her white purse. "I'm ready. Let's go."

"You aren't going to change?" Marinette gave a puzzled look.

She really was an idiot.

"Marinette," Chloé turned fully towards her, "I don't have any other clothes to change into." Chloé crosses her arms, tapping the fingers on her right hand against her arm as she waited for it to click.

  
"O-oh . . . " Marinette stopped for a moment, looking almost . . . humbled? Chloé didn't know. Everybody's expressions were so . . . hard to read lately. It was annoying. "You can borrow my clothes, if you'd like!"

Nuh uh. No way was Chloé taking pity from _her_. It was bad enough she had to _live_ with her (for who knows how long), she was _not_ wearing her clothes. "Please, you have awful taste." Chloé waved it off, heading towards the trapdoor, though a small part of her wished she could have taken up on the offer. She couldn’t have, of course . . . she had a reputation to uphold, or at least she thought she did, and she wasn’t going to let go of what little she had left.

"Well fine then . . . " Marinette grumbled, just loud enough for Chloé to hear.

"Let's just go to school, alright?" Chloé said, opening the door.

Oh.

School.

What would everyone think?

Would they make fun of her?

Would they be pitiful?

No, they'd definitely make fun of her. Her reputation was ruined. Nobody could possibly like her anymore. She'd have no friends left, and though she hated to think of it, she knew Adrien must have heard by now. His father probably told him to never speak to her again.

She was going to be unpopular and friendless.

With a gulp, she headed down the stairs, Marinette trailing close behind. Chloé wasn’t going to let her nervousness show. She had to stay strong and poised. She couldn’t just whine and get what she wanted this time, no matter how much she wanted to. She knew this time it would only cause more problems.

"Good morning, girls!" she was greeted by Marinette's mother, who was washing the dishes. "You better get to school quickly, or you'll be late!"

"We're going, Maman," Marinette said, grabbing two croissants. She held one out to Chloé, "here, breakfast."

Chloé looked at it for a moment, then took it. She bit into it as Marinette kissed her mother's cheek before opening the door. Chloé sighed, following the girl out the door and down the stairs that headed to the shop below. After Marinette stopped to kiss her father, they were out onto the streets. A small pang of sadness hit Chloé as she realized she hadn't even seen her father this morning. She supposed she'd just missed him, asleep on the couch, or perhaps he'd gone for a run. Oh well . . . she didn't have time to go back and see him. She had somewhere to be, and if she was late . . . she couldn’t handle the extra attention.

After crossing the street, Chloé stopped, looking up at the towering building in front of her. The school seemed to provoke more anxiety in her than anything ever had before, daring her to try and go inside. The little confidence — masked by bravado — that Chloé had was sucked away into the abyss, and she gulped. What horrible things awaited her in there?

"You coming?" Marinette asked, giving Chloé a seemingly concerned look.

"Yes," came Chloé's quick answer. She wasn't about to go and show Marinette how afraid she was. She was cool. She was better than this. She had a standard to uphold.

The girls headed towards the stairs, only a few straggling students standing on them. They stared at the two, odd looks on their faces that Chloé yet again couldn't decipher. But Chloé had a feeling they weren't staring at them both. They were looking at her, and she knew exactly the reason why.

Once inside, the staring became more and more apparent, though most of the students were in class already. Chloé's stomach seemed to do flips inside of her, begging her to either leave the building or go to the bathroom to puke. But she had to stay strong. She couldn’t dare let anyone see how upset this was making her. She was strong, she was poised, she . . . she was going to die before lunch.

Marinette ran up the stairs, Chloé following behind almost as quickly. Besides not being the running type, there was a large feeling of dread surrounding going inside that classroom. The classroom that held all of her peers, and those she craved attention from the most . . .

Adrien.

Sabrina.

Kim.

They were probably in there gossiping about her right then. She couldn’t blame them, she’d do the same. Was this how it felt when she teased? No, that couldn’t be possible . . . she was just asserting dominance when she did that. Besides, nobody had to go through as much as she had in the past twenty-four hours.

Marinette stopped when they reached the door, dark pigtails bouncing as she turned to look at Chloé with a small smile. "Want me to go in first?"

Chloé bit her puffed out lip, then nodded, allowing herself to give in to the pity just this once. It might only lend her a few extra seconds, but this would be her last few seconds as Chloé Bourgeois, esteemed daughter of the mayor. Soon she’d be just Chloé, lame, homeless child of an exiled mayor who couldn’t keep a wife for more than five years. That last part seemed to rip her heart right out of her chest.

Marinette gave a soft smile (why did she keep doing that?) before opening the door. She stepped inside, greeting the other students casually. 

With a gulp, Chloé grabbed the door, stopping it from closing (it was now or never), and walked in.

* * *

 

Time seemed to pause as Chloé entered the room, all eyes instantly glued on her. The expressions of her classmates were mixtures of sympathy and second-hand embarassment. But Chloé only saw one pair of eyes, Adrien's. Whilst everyone was looking at her, he was the only person who dared to look straight into her eyes, his green orbs consuming her completely. His expression seemed different from the others. Softer. His mouth was curved down slightly to one side, his brows lowered. Was he mad?

Chloé could feel her face heat up as she stood there, having stopped the moment she'd walked in. All eyes were on her. Everyone was staring at her and she was making a fool of herself. _Adrien_ was staring. 

She had to do something.

Chloé raised a brow, putting her hand on her hip, “what?” She gave the entire class a look of insignificance, her lips puffed out ever so slightly as she sighed, walking over to her seat. She sat down, making a big show out of how _normal_ it was, before turning her attention to Madame Bustier.

Gradually, the class went back to normal, conversations continuing and smiles returning, though they were uneasy.

That hadn’t gone as badly as she’d thought it would, though the fact that nobody seemed to notice she existed afterwords was barely comforting. 

After class was over, Chloé could barely bring herself to get out of her seat. So she just took a moment to sit, waiting for Marinette to tell her she was ready to go.

“Hey, Chlo,” Chloé heard Adrien’s voice next to her. She turned to look at him, taking notice of Nino, Alya, and Marinette’s stares as he talked to her.

Once again, she raised her brow, “what, Adrikins?”

“Are you . . . are you okay?” he looked genuinely concerned.

That proved it, he _did_ know. She wondered who’d told him. What did he think of her now? “Of course I’m okay, everything is fine.”

After a moment, Adrien sighed, “don’t lie to me, Chloé. We’ve been friends for years.”

Chloé looked down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. “Okay, fine. I’m not okay. Are you happy?” She looked back up at him, only seeing him frown in return.

“No, I’m not. Why didn’t you tell me?” Adrien asked, seeming almost disappointed.

Because she was afraid he’d hate her, just like all their other “friends” had. Because she didn’t want to lose him. Because she didn’t want more pity. Because she didn’t want to see him reject her. Because she wanted to avoid this exact conversation.

Chloé sighed, standing up. “Because . . . because I didn’t want to be the one to tell you.” Her eyes glistened, a hand going up to wipe away any tears that dared to form in that moment.

Adrien hugged her then. It was a rare thing, something that caught Chloé off guard. Sure, she hugged Adrien all the time, but he’d barely ever done it to her. She knew he was her friend, she really did, so she really shouldn’t be surprised at a time like this, but since he’d made so many new friends . . . it didn’t seem like he needed her anymore. But she leaned into him nonetheless, treasuring the moment for as long as it lasted. She could clearly remember the last time he’d hugged her like this . . . it was when her mother had left. She’d been so confused then. She’d thought it was all her fault. But Adrien had hugged her, had reassured her, and that helped more than he could ever know. Chloé may have let a few tears shed, but she’d wiped them away quickly, not wanting to look stupid in front of Marinette and Alya, who she was sure would laugh at her.

Once the hug was over, Chloé felt better about her situation than ever. She smiled, _really_ smiled, at Adrien, whispering a quiet, "thank you," before picking up her bag and strutting to the door.

"C'mon, Marinette, let's go eat lunch." She said, not even looking to the girl as she opened the door with a new determination.

On to the next problem.

* * *

  
The girls sat in the bakery, enjoying the freshly-made croissants and cookies despite their rocky relationship. There were very few customers inside at the time, leaving the tables almost completely empty. A woman sat in the corner by the window, typing away on her laptop as she furiously chomped on macaroons. At the counter, an almost frazzled old man was ordering some pie, happily handing Tom his money. It was relatively quiet, the hustle and bustle of the city outside just background noise in the serene shop.  
Chloé looked to Marinette as she bit into a cookie, analyzing her curiously. She wondered if Marinette was angry that Adrien had hugged her. Sure, it wasn't the most _romantic_ thing in the world, but it was still a sign that he cared about her. A part of Chloé hoped Marinette was jealous, though something made her a little weary of being mean to Marinette that day.

But that wasn't the biggest thing on Chloé's mind. No, not in the slightest. What she was really thinking about was the conversation she'd heard the other night. Upon further consideration, she'd begun to think it might have just been a dream, but she remembered it much too clearly for that to be true. She'd barely had time to think about it until the lunch break, but now it was basically the only thing on her mind.

What was Marinette hiding? And _who_ was Tikki?

Chloé could just _ask_ Marinette, of course, but she knew she probably wouldn't get a straight answer, if she even got one at all. No, she'd have to find this out in a more . . . sneaky fashion.

"Hey, Marinette, what are your parents like?"

"Hm?" Marinette looked at Chloé curiously, a brow raised at the seemingly random question.

"Your parents. What are they like?" Chloé repeated flatly.

"Well . . . they're kindhearted and very giving,” Marinette’s face seemed to light up as she spoke of her family, the sight giving Chloé an odd buzz in her chest. “But also really . . . embarrassing. Like, _every_ time I have a friend over." The pig-tailed girl chuckled lightly.

"Do they just bake?" Chloé asked, a hint of sarcasm in her tone, "or do they have other hobbies?"

Marinette blinked a few times, looking slightly confused at Chloé’s interest, before answering. "Well, my dad and I love to play video games together, but mostly his heart is in baking. My mom . . . she has a few flowers and stuff, but she's usually pretty busy with the bakery and all." Marinette answered, smiling brightly.

"That's cool, I guess," Chloé tapped her finger on her leg, looking over to the counter where Marinette’s father was straightening out a row of sweets behind the glass.

"Why did you want to know?" Marinette asked, suddenly looking a bit suspicious as Chloé looked back at her.

"Oh, uh, no reason . . . " Chloé said, "just . . . conversation." She have a large smile, though it didn’t seem very convincing. However, she must not have smiled at Marinette very often, because Marinette seemed completely satisfied with her answer, turning her attention back to her food for the moment.

Chloé had to stop herself from letting out a breath of relief as she attempted to devise her plan. So, they liked baking and video games. Chloé could use that to start a conversation. A conversation where she could casually ask if they knew anyone named _Tikki_. Marinette had said they were embarrassing, so judging from the movies she'd seen, Chloé was willing to bet they'd overshare. She'd find out what Marinette was hiding. And when she did, she was going to . . . to . . . actually, Chloé had no idea. But it was _killing her_ not knowing.

Around the time Chloé came to that conclusion, a scream from outside brought her back to reality.

"Oh no, not another akuma," the woman in the corner groaned, closing her laptop and putting it in her bag. She sounded more annoyed than scared, which intrigued Chloé. Maybe it was just because she'd almost been killed by so many akumas, but they scared the living daylights out of her! Meanwhile, an announcement blared outside, a bored voice telling everyone to evactaute the area. How was nobody else freaked out?!

Marinette looked at Chloé with urgency, "come on, Chloé, let's go up to my room."

"Yeah, sure," Chloé agreed, getting up, her eyes still glued to the scene outside. 

They ran up the stairs (Chloé hated those things), quickly heading up to Marinette's room. The bluenette closed the trapdoor in a hurry once they were inside, sighing.

She turned to Chloé, "alright, you stay here, I'm going on the balcony."

"What? Why? It's on the roof. That's like . . . the _least_ safest place to be." Chloé raised a brow.

"I just . . . I want to see what it is, okay? I'll be back down before you know it."

"Ugh, fine . . . “ Chloé crossed her arms, “at least let me go up there, too." Sure, the akuma freaked her out, but she wasn’t about to let her only protection go up there alone.

"N-no!" Marinette yelled, sounding alarmed. "I-I mean, you wouldn't want it to _see you_ , would you? I'm much better at hiding."

She had a point . . . What if _she_ was the one who caused it? Chloé supposed She was more protected in the room than with her rival. "Alright, fine. But if you get hurt, I am _not_ helping you." Chloé sat down on the chaise lounge with a sneer.

Marinette rolled her eyes, then proceeded to climb up the ladder to her balcony.

After a few minutes of patient waiting, Chloé started to get a little concerned. Not that she _cared_ or anything, but Marinette was the one who knew where the shower was, and the common house, though admittedly not that bad, was making Chloé feel . . . dirty. So, with a sigh, she made her way to the ladder, climbing it and opening the trapdoor.

With an annoyed tone, Chloé stepped onto the stone roof. "Marinette, I need to know where the--" the balcony was empty.

Marinette was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, another cliffhanger :)

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you think in the comments! Constructive criticism is accepted and encouraged!


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